Page 116 of Lourdes & the Mafia
“Hey,” Kane draws me out of my thoughts and towards his gaze. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
I smile, my faith in them unmatched. “I know.”
Lourdes
Okay,soItotallybelieve Kane when he says they won’t let anything happen to me. To be honest, I trust the three of them implicitly. I trust Kane to torture those who would harm me, I trust Lorenzo to heal my wounds, and I trust Ramiel to kill for me if I asked.
Independence, I’m finding, is leaning on others in your time of need.
But it’s also offering that same courtesy.
The truth is, the three of them are powerful. The most powerful men I’ve ever encountered. They can promise me the world if they so please, but I feel like I’m at a disadvantage, and it won’t mean anything unless I can bring something to the table as well.
And what have I brought them except for problems?
Ramiel and Kane have both gotten hurt because of my mess, and I’ve done nothing but hide behind them and within the walls of their Underworld. Their demons revere me, they pass by with smiles on their twisted faces, muttering “Hello, my Queen,” in their garbled language.
And I’ve done nothing to earn that title.
So, yes. I trust them.
But I also want them to trust me, too. I want them to trust that I know what I’m doing. Even if I fucking don’t. But hey, a pendeja can pretend, can’t she?
It’s me. I’m the pendeja.
Before Ramiel and Kane could get into a screaming match regarding what to do about Thuriel, which I felt brewing beneath the service, I excuse myself.
I need to be alone.
To think.
To use my magic where they can’t see.
Ever since Kane trained me, I can feel something different about me. Not that I can actually feel the magic beneath the surface. It feels different than that. Not so simple. It’s fibers and flesh and bone and blood. It is the beating of my heart, and not something I can scent or search for. It’s just something that is. And the same way I can hold my breath is the way I can pull a vision into being.
I’ve seen into the future.
I’ve seen into the past.
But I wonder… can I see into the present, too?
I try to level my breathing, pulling in steady breaths as I lay on my back in Lorenzo’s room. I’m alone, and the incense and candles burn like they’re a permanent fixture in his space. They don’t relax me. I’m starting to think my magic doesn’t work like that.
So I conjure up images. Images to get my heart racing. Images of flesh and mangled bones, of bleeding feathers and of a single word.
Retribution.
Retribution.
Retribution.
Everything around me fades in a flash. I’m sucked into the silk blankets of his bed and transported elsewhere. The softness beneath me vanishes, punching into my shoulder blades and back. Something cold and gritty. I groan, twisting in the seat, only to find myself laying down on a stone slab like a sacrificial lamb.
I look around. The space feels like a mirror to Castle Death. Something colder and emptier. I can feel the hollow echoes of loneliness against the stone, feel it seeping like the water dripping from the cracks.
And in the room, I see him.
Thuriel.
